Shake the disease
by Logospilgrim
Summary: Severus Snape has become allergic to porcupine quills and as a result, no potion can cure the Potions Master from a hellish flu... Will the hospital wing and the whole of Hogwarts survive?
1. Head Table malaise

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Shake The Disease

by Logospilgrim

_You know how hard it is for me  
to shake the disease  
that takes hold of my tongue  
in situations like these  
Understand me_

Depeche Mode

[_]

"Good morning, Severus," McGonagall said. "Fashionably late, I see."

He ignored her and sat down, his back ramrod straight, his face half-shrouded by his lanky black hair.

"Well, you're as sociable as ever," McGonagall said.

"Shall we dispense with the usual pleasantries, Minerva?" he said with a strained voice, and reached for a cup of black coffee. "I am not at all in the mood."

She sniffed. "I don't know why I even bother trying to be civil to you."

"Then don't. It seems to work for everyone else."

This, of course, is precisely when the Headmaster joined in the conversation.

"How are you this morning, my dear Severus?" Dumbledore said.

Snape inclined his head towards the old wizard but didn't look him in the eyes. "Headmaster."

"You look a little pale. Insomnia again, Severus?"

"No, Headmaster, but when I awoke I wasn't feeling quite well, and so I took a potion before coming to breakfast. Nothing to be concerned about."

Except that his vision was blurring.

"Something rather nasty is going around," McGonagall said. "I've had to send a number of students to see Poppy."

"It is getting cooler," Dumbledore said. "That time of the year-"

Snape suddenly gripped the edge of the table and hunched over it, his breathing fast and shallow.

"Severus? Severus!" Dumbledore said. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy, just... I'll be fine in a second," Snape said, gritting his teeth. Why wasn't that damned potion working properly?

McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder. "Severus, I'm fetching Poppy."

"I said I'm... I'm fine-"

The students began to notice the singular activity taking place at the Head Table; the rambunctious noise in the Great Hall was dying down and giving way to whispered exclamations.

Then Snape groaned and clutched his waist with one arm; his head dropped on the table. Dumbledore was on his feet in an instant and at Snape's side.

"Get Poppy," Dumbledore told McGonagall, who hurried out of the Great Hall.

Snape groaned again, the sound weaker this time, and shivered.

"Keep still," Dumbledore said. He pushed the hair from Snape's features and discovered that a crimson rash covered the Potions Master's cheek. "Oh, dear."

"Headmaster," Snape said, and lost consciousness.


	2. Fever rising

"Severus!"

The noise in the Great Hall increased; students craned their necks to see what was happening at the Head Table. Pomfrey and McGonagall came charging in and within seconds they were huddling around the unconscious Potions Master.

"He just fainted," Dumbledore said.

"Help me lift him from the table," Pomfrey said, a bit out of breath.

They gently grabbed him by the shoulders and propped him up against the chair. Pomfrey ran her wand over him while McGonagall unfastened his collar and Dumbledore cradled his jaw.

"He's very warm," the Headmaster said.

Pomfrey clucked her tongue. "Look at him. Why didn't he come to see me this morning?" She peered at the rash covering his cheek, took more readings, and frowned. "This is strange..."

"What is it, Poppy?" Dumbledore said.

"He's obviously got the flu, but there's something else... We need to bring him to the Hospital Wing right away."

Snape's eyelids suddenly fluttered, and he groaned loudly enough that all the chatter in the Great Hall ceased.

"Severus," Pomfrey said, "keep still."

He scowled and opened his mouth to reply, and instead began to cough and cough until he just shook almost soundlessly. Then he took a deep ragged breath and started coughing again. When at last the fit subsided, he sagged against the chair and shut his eyes.

"That's what you get for trying to argue with me," Pomfrey said. "I should have said, keep quiet!"

Dumbledore gestured to Hagrid. "I don't think Severus would much appreciate being subjected to a _mobilicorpus _charm," the Headmaster told McGonagall. "Not when Sirius was the last to-"

Snape slumped over the armrest and vomited in Lupin's lap.

"Not on my _only_ set of robes..." Lupin said. He sighed and helped Dumbledore and the two witches to set the Potions Master back in his chair.

Snape mumbled something they could not understand.

"Don't fret, Severus," the Headmaster said. He gently held the black head up, wiped Snape's mouth and chin and said, "Poppy, the rash seems to be spreading."

"Merlin's beard," Pomfrey said through clenched teeth. Sweat had begun to roll down Snape's face. She gripped his wrist and touched his forehead. "He's burning up -I think he's having an allergic reaction." She muttered a charm and the Head Table was cleared. Another charm and Snape was divested of his robes and jacket.

"Poppy?" McGonagall said. "Shouldn't we be getting him to-"

"No time," Pomfrey said, and levitated the insensible Potions Master onto the table. "The fever is rising too quickly, I've got to get it down or..."

The students were staring at the unfolding crisis with a mixture of shock and fascination. Was their dreaded Potions Master only a human being after all?


	3. Ice bath

"_Feverosem reducio_," Pomfrey said, waving her wand. Then she unbuttoned Snape's white dress shirt and conjured small bags of ice which she placed on his chest and against his sides and inner thighs.

After a few tense minutes, Dumbledore said, "Poppy?"

"It's starting to come down. A hundred and three."

"Let's get him to the Hospital Wing then," Hooch said. She conjured a stretcher, and stared at Pomfrey. "Well?"

"All right, it's safe," Pomfrey said. "A hundred and two point six..."

"Minerva, keep an eye on the students," the Headmaster said.

McGonagall nodded.

Snape was carefully placed upon the stretcher and Dumbledore began to guide it down the center aisle, with Pomfrey and Hooch at his left and right. The student whispered amongst themselves and gaped at their Potions Master, who was still unconscious. His skin glistened with sweat, his shirt clung to his body, his breathing was labored. Shivers ran across his long limbs, and his lips trembled.

"A hundred and two point eight," Pomfrey said. "_Feverosem reducio_."

Dumbledore lengthened his strides and before anyone in the Great Hall had time to blink, the Headmaster, Hooch, Pomfrey and Snape had disappeared from sight beyond the entrance doors.

[_]

When they arrived in the hospital wing, Pomfrey gestured towards the bathroom and said, "Here, bring him in here. I'm not giving him another potion 'til I know exactly what it is he took this morning." She muttered a spell and the tub was filled with ice.

She stripped the professor of his clothing and lowered him into the tub until he was covered up to his shoulders in ice cubes.

A couple of minutes went by and Dumbledore said, "Poppy, is it working?"

"Yes. He's down to a hundred and two... good, good."

There was a small gasp, and Snape opened his eyes.

"Wh- where..."

"It's all right, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Don't move. You're in the Hospital Wing."

"Severus, what potion did you take earlier?" Pomfrey said.

"P... p-p-potion?" Snape said, his teeth chattering, and he was seized by a violent shudder. "Wha- what's w-w-wrong... with m-me... why am I..."

"Try to remember," Pomfrey said. "We think you're having an allergic reaction to something."

"I... Flu... Flu Begone," he said.

Pomfrey ticked off the potion's ingredients in her head. _Lavender pollen, bees' wings, morning dew, porcupine quills... Oh, no_.


	4. Muggle medicine

"Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

She ran her wand over Snape's quivering form and said, "Merlin. He's become allergic to porcupine quills."

"Wh- what?" Snape said, looking at Pomfrey with a dazed expression.

"Don't try to talk," Dumbledore told him. "Poppy, how's his temperature?"

"A hundred point five. Let's get him into bed."

She levitated him out of the tub; another wave of her wand, and thick towels wrapped themselves around his body. She then settled him on the bed, and after making sure he was thoroughly dried, covered him with a thin cotton sheet.

"He's got that blasted rash all over now," she said, "and there's isn't a single thing in my potions cabinet that doesn't contain porcupine quills."

The Headmaster gazed at Snape and shook his head. "I fear, Poppy, that he's ingested so many medicinal potions over the years..."

"It sometimes happens to professional Quidditch players," Hooch said. "It's rare, of course. But even they don't get injured as often as Severus has."

Snape moaned. "Albus..."

"Yes, Severus? I'm here."

"I..." He opened his eyes half-way and closed them again.

Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder. "Try to rest. There's not much else you can do, my boy."

The Potions Master shivered.

"Albus," Pomfrey said, "he can't just ride this out." She touched his temple. "He's getting warmer again. _Feverosem reducio_."

"Perhaps... some Muggle type medicine would help," Dumbledore said.

All eyes darted towards Snape, who didn't move a muscle in protest.

"It's serious, all right," Hooch said.

"Well, if that's what we're going to do, the quicker, the better," Pomfrey said, laying a cold compress on Snape's forehead. "Something to bring his fever down, and, let's see, whatever Muggles use for flu symptoms... A cream for that rash... Heaven help us when Severus is able to start complaining."

"I believe a short conversation with Miss Granger is in order," Dumbledore said.

[_]

Hermione staggered into the Hospital Ward, hefting two large plastic bags. "Madam Pomfrey, I've -I've got the medicine you wanted."

"Thank goodness you're here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "You set those on the table by the door, lovely, let me take a look..." A few instants later, boxes of all shapes and sizes were stacked in front of the bewildered mediwitch. "My stars!" she said, peering at one of them. "Ah, the instructions are on the back. Now then, fever..."

"I think it might be best to start with a couple of Tylenols, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "That red and white box over there."

"Thank you, dear," Pomfrey said. After a minor struggle with the childproof cap, the mediwitch shook two tablets in her hand and headed towards Snape's bed. "Would you help me, Hermione dear? Oh, I do hope these work."

"What's the matter with the professor?" Hermione asked.

"A combination of things," Pomfrey said. "Professor Snape was ill this morning, and on top of that, he had an allergic reaction to one of the ingredient in the potion he took."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "It wasn't -not _porcupine quills_, Madam Pomfrey? This is why the Headmaster asked me to buy Muggle medicine, isn't it?"

"You're right as usual, dear. Luckily, Professor Snape isn't in a position to fuss."

"Or scowl at me," Hermione said, and bit her tongue.

They approached the bedridden man and Hermione's footsteps became hesitant.

Her formidable Potions Master was immobile, and his cheeks were flushed. His arms were folded over his chest, all of which were covered with a rash.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Pomfrey said, beckoning the Gryffindor forward. "I doubt the professor knows you're even here." She slipped an arm beneath Snape's shoulders and raised him from the bed. "Severus, I have to give you some medicine now."

"P -potion... it'll burn... got... got to..." The words that followed were unintelligible.

"Hold his head, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "When I've given him the pills, hand me that glass of water on the bedside table."

Hermione swallowed and cupped the back of Snape's head.

"Open up, Severus," Pomfrey said gently. "Come on, Professor, good... Glass of water, Hermione..."


	5. Tylewhats?

Hermione did as the mediwitch asked, careful not to let Snape's head slip from her grasp.

"Drink," Pomfrey told Snape.

His throat worked, and she nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned to Hermione and said, "How long does it take for these pills to take effect?"

"Fifteen minutes or so, usually," Hermione said. "Can I... can I put his head back on the pillow now?"

"Oh! Of course, sorry, dear." The mediwitch felt Snape's forehead. "Fifteen minutes... Won't be a moment too soon. I haven't been able to get rid of this fever."

"Is he... He's going to be all right, isn't he?"

"I'm sure he will, once that potion's out of his system. After that, well, the rash will eventually go away, and he'll..." She folded her arms. "He'll pretty much have to lie still for a while."

Hermione was glad she wasn't in the mediwitch's shoes.

Little did she know.

[_]

Snape opened his eyes and glowered.

_Why is it... so damned BRIGHT in here... And why does everything hurt so much..._

His muscles felt like they were simultaneously being stretched and crushed; an unbearable pressure in his sinus cavities threatened to take all of his head along with it; his body felt like it was on fire, and his skin itched... But he was too weak to do anything about it.

Then he realized he wasn't in his beloved dungeons, but in the Hospital Wing. Again. What had happened to him _this_ time? Yet another accident in the classroom?

_Blast those eternal dunderheads_...

Or perhaps... A torture session at the hands of Voldemort.

Then his face scrunched up, and he let out three scratchy sneezes.

"Awake, Severus?"

_Oh, joy. The mediwitch extraordinaire._

He'd planned to bark one of his trademark caustic responses. What emerged from his throat was more like a barely audible croak, something similar to the sound an ailing frog would make. His eyes watered and he sneezed again.

She touched his forehead. "I think you need another couple of Tylenols."

_Tylewhats?_ Again he tried to snap at her, but his voice was nowhere to be found.

"Severus, for pity's sake, relax. You've got the worst flu I've ever seen and I can't give you any potions because you're allergic to porcupine quills. Do you understand?"

Suddenly, he remembered -getting up, feeling ill, taking a potion... Sitting down at the Head Table for breakfast... Was delirium setting in, or had he actually thrown up on the werewolf? And, wait a minute. Allergic to porcupine quills?

He glared at Pomfrey and rasped.

"That's right, Severus."

He attempted to rise, in vain.

"Bullheaded man, what did I just tell you? Keep still, you're bringing your temperature up! Don't believe me, do you -let me prove it to you, then." She muttered a spell and the pitcher of water she was holding was transfigured into a mirror, which she held in front of his face.

His eyes widened.

_Oh, no_. _Damn damn DAMN!_

There was no mistaking the tell-tale rash that covered every inch of his sallow flesh. It was true. It had finally happened.

He stared at Pomfrey and gave a slight shake of the head, overcome by weariness.

"I know, Severus, and I'm sorry. I've been doing my best with, um... with alternative methods."

He shut his eyes and shrugged, too tired to care.

"All right, dear. I'm going to give you some pills now, and you'll feel a bit better in no time at all," Pomfrey said.


	6. Ginger ale to the rescue

Snape swallowed the medicine and groaned.

"What is it?" Pomfrey asked.

He glared at her again. _I feel like crap, is that so bloody surprising?_

She ignored his sullen look and checked his temperature. Then she grabbed a small yellow tube and squeezed some of its contents into the palm of her hand.

"What... you doing?" he said. Or rather, wheezed.

"I'm going to put something on that rash of yours. It itches, doesn't it?"

"How astute of-" He flinched and swallowed.

"Professor, I predict you're going to be here for a while, so let's make like friends, shall we? And you'd better stay quiet, or you'll hurt your throat."

He grumbled softly.

"Good."

Pomfrey began rubbing the ointment on his arm; he tensed, then relaxed.

She sniffed. "Smells like herbs. It's not greasy either, not bad... I should keep some of it in stock. Well, I'll have to now, I think. Does it help?"

"Hmm."

She moved on to his other arm and smoothed the ointment upon his skin. Then she squirted more ointment from the tube and spread it across his chest. "Is the burning sensation going away?"

He nodded, sighing with relief.

She lifted the blankets from his legs and applied the fragrant cream on them, massaging his stiff muscles at the same time.

"How's that?" she said.

Snape snored in response.

She considered her slumbering patient and said, "I'll definitely need more of that stuff. I might as well take care of his back while I'm at it..." A couple of spells, and she had him lying on his stomach; she'd just started gently kneading his rash-covered shoulders when the Headmaster came in.

"How's our Severus doing?" Dumbledore said.

"Grumpy, but cooperative."

"Excellent." He gazed at Snape and said, "Tsk, tsk. Poor lad. Is the Muggle medicine working?"

"Better than I expected," Pomfrey said, moving further down his back. "I should have looked into it sooner."

"There is no doubt that we magical folk tend to underestimate our Muggle counterparts. I suspect that Severus will develop an interest in the chemistry behind this medicine of theirs."

"Wonders will never cease!"

[_]

Hermione could hardly believe her ears when Madam Pomfrey told her to get more of 'that Muggle ointment' for Professor Snape. He'd allowed her to use it, then. And he must have liked it, since Madam Pomfrey had asked Hermione to buy more.

The Gryffindor couldn't help but feel exuberant: she'd managed to do something, at last, which her forbidding Potions Master had approved.

Or perhaps he was sicker than everyone thought.

She entered the Hospital Ward, her heart thudding against her ribs.

The mediwitch was sitting behind her desk, organizing stacks of note cards. Snape was still lying on his stomach, asleep.

"Madam Pomfrey..."

"Ah, Hermione. Come in, come in. Is that the cream I asked for?"

"I got a few tubes of it," Hermione said. She walked to the desk, sneaking a glance in Snape's direction on the way, and handed a small bag to Pomfrey.

"Thank you, dear." She took one of the tubes out of the bag. "You'll have to tell me where you get all these things."

"The professor... liked it?"

"Well, when he found out about his allergy, he was... It wasn't very good news, as you can imagine." Pomfrey said. "He didn't put up much of a fight after that."

Hermione gaped.

"I know he must seem like an overgrown porcupine to you students, but he's not so bad as all that, dear. Professor Snape just has a lot on his mind," the mediwitch said.

"Teaching potions doesn't look easy," Hermione said. _Not to mention, spying on Voldemort and trying not to get killed_.

"It most certainly isn't. It's a shame that the Hospital Ward is the only place where he ever seems to get any rest."

Hermione looked at her Potions Professor. It was so strange, seeing him like that. He wasn't scowling, or yelling, or stalking -he was just lying there, immobile, with his cheek pushed against the pillow.

"Is there anything else I can do?" she said.

"If you'd like, you can sit by his bedside while I finish with this paperwork, and let me know when he wakes up."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

An hour later, Hermione was finding it increasingly difficult not to dooze off herself. The only sounds in the room were the shuffling of paper, and the Potions Master's even breathing.

Then suddenly, his eyelids opened, revealing drowsy black eyes. Hermione started.

"Oh!"

Pomfrey looked up from her work. "Something wrong, dear?"

"Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape is awake," Hermione said, backing away from the bed.

The mediwitch immediately went to him and touched his face and his neck. "Severus, how are you feeling?"

He tried to speak, and screwed his eyes shut.

"Throat?"

He nodded.

"Do you think you'd be able to swallow pills like those I gave you earlier?"

He shook his head.

"I -I think maybe this," Hermione said. She held out one of the bottles of Muggle medicine that were lined up on the table next to the potions cabinet. "It's cold syrup."

"Bring it to me, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "Let's get the professor sitting up a bit..." She waved her wand and turned him over, with pillows supporting his head and back.

"Here, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, and gave her the bottle, trying not to look at the Potions Master.

Snape started breathing more rapidly and a small complaint escaped him.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so ill," Pomfrey said. She inspected the red liquid inside the bottle, took a whiff and wrinkled her nose. "I hope this won't make him sick."

"It's not sweet, I mean, that's what my parents used to give me when I had a flu, and it didn't make me sick. I'm sure Professor Snape will be all right."

Pomfrey poured some of it in a spoon. "Severus, have this."

He opened his mouth, took a painful swallow and shuddered, but a few moments later, his breathing slowed.

"That was a good suggestion, Hermione," Pomfrey said.

"He might like ginger ale too," Hermione said. "It would help settle his stomach."

"Ginger ale?" Pomfrey said.

"It's a Muggle drink. I always have some when I don't feel well."

"Well, I trust you, dear. And I'm sure the professor will be grateful to you once he's gotten his bearings back."

[_]

That evening, the Potions Master was busy wishing he were dead.

A flu, is what Pomfrey had said this was.

An attack of the bubonic plague, more like.

To top it off, he couldn't take any potions. He could name half a dozen that would have gotten rid of this thing in less than five minutes. He couldn't, however, name a single healing potion that didn't contain those blasted porcupine quills.

Worst of all, though, was that they wouldn't leave him to rot in the comfort of his own miserable company. Pomfrey, Albus, and, oh yes.

_Miss Granger_.

What an incomparable delight _that_ was.

The girl was at his bedside, reading to him from some Muggle mystery book, every softly spoken word like a rock dropping on his head.

"Elementary, my dear Watson..."

He had to give it to the little know-it-all, though: that 'ginger ale' drink she'd brought had been a rather pleasant surprise, especially since the thought of ingesting anything had previously made him want to retch. But the golden fizzy liquid had quelled his nausea, and he was thankful enough to allow the girl to stay without subjecting her to his inimitable aura of menace.


	7. Tissues can be a weapon

Then, she stopped reading.

"Professor Snape?"

He kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut.

"Sir?"

_Get out of here already, Miss Granger. Can't you tell I'm sleeping?_

"Well, I... I'll just wish you a good night, professor."

_Bravo._

He strained to hear her walking out of the room -did she have to be so bloody quiet?

Then he felt her hand on his for a second... Less than a second. He just about jumped out of his skin in surprise.

Once he was sure she'd gone, he reached over to the bedside table and groped for that glass of ginger ale he knew was there, but only succeeded in knocking it over; it shattered on the floor.

_Damnation._

Right on cue, the Gryffindor came running back in the room, joined almost immediately by Pomfrey. The mediwitch's nightcap was askew and her wand was at the ready.

"Severus! Are you all right? I thought you were watching him, Miss Granger-"

"He -he fell asleep, Madam Pomfrey, and I didn't... I thought it'd be better to... I was afraid I'd wake him..."

"Poppy, stop pestering the girl," Snape said, his voice barely audible. "I was just thirsty." He grimaced and clutched his neck.

"Do you want me to muzzle you?" Pomfrey said, clearing the mess with a wave of her wand. "Let me see how bad it is. Open your mouth. Open it!"

Snape seethed but did as she asked.

"_Lumos_," Pomfrey said. "The back of your throat is absolutely raw."

He shrugged impatiently.

"I'm going to give you a hot drink with honey, and then I want you to get some sleep, is that clear?" She felt his forehead and took his pulse. "All I can say is, keep this up and oh, you and I will get to know each other more than we ever thought possible."

Alarm flitted across his face.

"You get the picture, Severus."

He turned his back to her and slammed his head in the pillow, a gesture that was followed by a groan.

Pomfrey sighed. _Impossible man_.

Hermione peeked from behind the curtain where she'd taken refuge. "Uh, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, Hermione. Goodness, I'd forgotten you were here," Pomfrey said. "You can go back to your room and get some rest, dear. I'm afraid Professor Snape is too much of a handful at the moment."

Snape threw the sheets over his head.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, and hurried out of the room.

Pomfrey returned to Snape's bedside with a cup of hot camomile tea. "Here, Severus. I think you'll like this."

The lump in the bed refused to budge.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Pomfrey said. She set the cup down, gripped him beneath the arms and maneuvered the weakened man into a sitting position. Satisfied that he was comfortable, she blew out her breath and grabbed the steaming cup of tea.

"Now, if you're quite through sulking, drink this. It'll soothe that throat of yours."

He raised his head from the pillows a fraction, then let it fall back in defeat.

"Let me help you," she said.

He gave her a baleful look.

"Fine, then. Fend for yourself, you intolerable grouch. I'm-"

She was about to get up and storm out of the room when she saw the indignant expression on his features melt into one of utter wretchedness.

"All right, Severus. I'm sorry. You really have a way of testing my bedside manners to the limit, do you know that? Let's try again."

She put another pillow behind his head, blew on the hot drink a few times, and brought the cup to his mouth. "Here. Little sips."

He obeyed at first, then she had to tip the cup to match his thirst.

"Good, wasn't it? I put some clover honey in there for you," Pomfrey said.

He blinked slowly and mouthed, _thank you_.

"You're welcome." She frowned and touched his cheeks. "Still feverish. Nothing like a virus to take the edge off a worn-out Potions Master, is there?"

A faint smirk curved his lips.

"That's more like it. Feeling sleepy now?"

He nodded.

"I'll be in the next room, but I'll check on you again soon. Try to get some rest."

She tucked him in, watched him drift to sleep, and went back to bed.

[_]

Dawn greeted a Potions Master and a mediwitch whose eyes were bloodshot and whose moods were definitely of a nasty persuasion. Snape had woken up in the middle of the night nearly coughing his lungs out, a condition soon combined with nasal congestion so severe that it had left him practically unable to breathe.

It wasn't long before Pomfrey was also muttering unflattering remarks about 'that Muggle crap' and sneering at the empty medicine packets, not to mention the mound of crumpled tissues, that littered the bedside table.

"Oh, my," Dumbledore said when he came in the Hospital Ward. However, his exclamation was drowned out by the great honking sound of Snape blowing his nose for what appeared to be the one hundreth time.

"Ugh," Snape said, and flopped back against his pillows. "Uuuuugh..."

"Rough night?" Dumbledore asked Pomfrey.

She scowled in a manner worthy of Snape himself. "How very perceptive of you, Headmaster."

"I gather the alternative treatment wasn't as effective as we'd hoped."

"Ged oud!" Snape said. His fingers closed around a handful of soiled tissues which he attempted to hurl at Dumbledore, to little effect. "Ged-" His voice cracked and he began coughing until his face turned red.

"Now, now, Severus, Pomfrey's doing her best-"

Snape's hand fumbled for a glass of water; he gulped part of the clear liquid down, coughing so much that he spilled half of it on his chest in the process.

"Oh, so this is _my_ fault, is it?" Pomfrey said. She stomped towards Dumbledore and thrust her finger at him. "Who shipped Severus to You-Know-Who's torture jamborees time and time again? Who's responsible for the fact he's had more healing potions pumped into him than any professor in history?"

"Poppy, you're exhausted. Why don't you let me watch over Severus for a while."

She glared at him, but then her shoulders slumped. "Albus, this is impossible. I can't treat him properly without potions."

"He's a sturdy lad. He's just going through the worst of it right now."

Snape blew his nose yet again, the noise almost loud enough to rattle the window panes.

"Maybe... I should give one of those Muggle remedies another go," Pomfrey said.

"That's the spirit," Dumbledore said. "Then go lie down a bit."

Pomfrey rubbed her tired face and sorted through the haphazard collection of bottles on the bedside table. "Severus, here. A brand we haven't tried yet. Decongestant... Cough suppressant. It's got potential."

"Not bloody likely," Snape said. He shifted on the mattress and groaned. If he could just get some sleep... "Uuugh."

"Come on, professor, humor me. I'm at my wits end."

"Fide." He sniffed and opened his mouth, too weary to oppose her.


	8. Mister Master Spy

He made a face as he swallowed. "And I thought potions tasted like crap."

"Nice to finally hear you admit to that after all these years," Pomfrey said. She fluffed his pillows and rearranged his blankets. "Do try to get some shut eye, Severus. This medicine is supposed to make you drowsy."

He gave her a look of deep skepticism. Then he sighed and nodded.

"If he needs anything, Headmaster, come and wake me," Pomfrey said.

"I'm sure we'll manage for a couple of hours, Poppy."

She glanced at Snape one more time, as if to make certain she'd done everything she possibly could, and left the room.

"All right, Severus, I'll just sit right here and keep you company while you sleep," Dumbledore said, pulling the chair closer to the bed. "Perhaps I can entertain you with a few tales of what's been going on in your class since you fell ill, and it will help you doze off."

Snape's face was torn between scorn and alarm.

"The students -well, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, to be more precise- have been making life a living hell for your temporary replacement. They're disgusted with said wizard's abilities and have been hard at work exposing his mediocre potions skills by outdoing him at every opportunity. They've also been praising you... How did Gilderoy put it? 'At interminable length.'"

Snape was speechless.

"Oh, and wouldn't you know it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione teamed up with Draco and a few other Slytherins, and Fred and George Weasley of course, and 'accidentally' turned poor Gilderoy into a peacock. According to the rumors, that is."

A smile wavered on Snape's lips.

"I thought that would cheer you," Dumbledore said. "We've been missing you at the Head Table, dear boy."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Albus."

"It's not the same without you-"

Suddenly, Snape gasped. He clutched his arm and turned white. "Oh, no..."

"Severus?"

"The Dark Lord is summoning me... You have to help, I... I must get dressed..."

"You are in no condition-"

Snape sniffed and struggled to get up. "You know as well as I do that I can't ignore the summons. I'll... I've answered the call in much worse conditions."

"Severus, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes -quickly, before Poppy-"

Both men jumped at the sound of the mediwitch clearing her throat. She was standing in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, mouth set in a grim line. "Did I hear you say what I think I heard you say?"

"Poppy, Severus has been summoned."

"I wouldn't care if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sent him a bloody love letter," Pomfrey said. "He's not going, do you understand?"

"You have to be reasonable, Severus knows what he's-"

She stormed over to Dumbledore and said, "If you tell me to be reasonable one more time, I'm really going to let you have it, you old goat. I'll only say this once more. He's not going. Not this time. We're not talking of a simple cold! He's very ill and weakened by his allergic reaction."

Snape growled and held his arm tighter. "This is none of your business-"

"Oh, it is every bit my business, Mister Master Spy! Or have you forgotten how many times you've been dragged in here, barely alive? But, oh, don't let me stop you, for heaven's sake. Go ahead, Severus. Let's see you get up, go on, then."

Snape gathered all the strength he had left and hauled himself out of bed.

And crumpled to the floor. He glared at Pomfrey.

"I'm sure the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters will be sympathetic to your health problems," she said. "They may Crucio you just once or twice instead of the usual dozen times."

"Meddlesome witch-" Snape's biting retort was cut short when his Dark Mark flared to life again, the pain even more intense than the first time.

"Albus, help me get him back in bed," Pomfrey said.

"Have to... can't... c- can't.." Snape said, his breath coming in short puffs.

"Stay calm," Pomfrey said. She snatched the bag Hermione had brought and frantically searched its contents for something, anything, that might help her charge.

Snape screamed.

"Poppy, Voldemort won't give Severus a moment's peace until he answers," Dumbledore said. As he had done many times in the past, he murmured a number of spells, attempting to shield Snape from the Dark Lord's call. "I think Voldemort is more upset than usual." He continued to whisper and power radiated from him in waves.

"Hold his arm," Pomfrey said. She tore a box open.

Dumbledore looked at the tube in her hand. "What is that?"

"It's supposed to feel ice cold, has 'aspirin,' Hermione told me it was some kind of miracle drug," Pomfrey said. _It's crazy but it's got to work_...

Snape's entire body was trembling. "P- Poppy..."

"Take some deep breaths, Severus. We're going to try something."

Dumbledore whispered again, this time to protect Pomfrey who was about to touch her charge's burning Mark.

She rubbed the clear blue gel on his arm, glancing at his face every few seconds to see if he was reacting favorably. Then, at last, to her intense relief, his muscles began to relax and he stared at her in astonishment.

"It's... it doesn't... burn so much," he said.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore said. "Non-magical remedies impede the Mark... I never would have imagined such a thing. And, you seem less stuffed up, Severus. That Muggle potion you took a little while ago apparently works as well."

"This ointment needs to be reapplied every four hours," Pomfrey said, reading the directions on the tube.

"I really do think you should go back to bed," Dumbledore said. "I believe we have the situation under control now."

"Yes, no thanks to you. I can't believe you were actually going to help him answer the summons."

"I confess I couldn't think of a better solution. But you must admit that Severus is more inclined to listen to you."

"Ha," came Snape's sleepy voice. He yawned.

"Quiet, you. I'd give you a piece of my mind if it wasn't against my principles to upbraid a bedridden patient," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore arched his eyebrow, but wisely refrained from comment.

"Ha," Snape said again, the word almost inaudible. His head felt like it was floating away.

"I'll be back soon to check on you, so don't even think of doing anything foolish," Pomfrey said, softening.

But he'd already fallen asleep.


	9. Invitation to dinner

[_]

The following day, Snape was feeling a bit better -particularly as a result of a most entertaining dream he'd had of a peacock being chased by a big, black bat. He was even able to eat half a boiled egg, and a piece of toast.

The gel Pomfrey had used on his arm had managed to keep the burning sensation of the Death Mark to a minimum. He'd only woken up once or twice in the night, and this morning, it wasn't bothering him at all. Perhaps the Dark Lord had given up... for now.

Pomfrey looked rested as well; after a couple of difficult nights, both she and her slightly irascible patient had gotten close to eight hours of sleep.

"If you'd like, we could sit on the terrace for a bit this afternoon. Lovely day... Fresh air would do you good," she said.

"Fresh... air?" he said, enunciating the words with pursed lips.

"Yes, you know, ruffles your hair, and puts a pink glow in your cheeks."

Snape looked as though she'd given him a spoonful of brine.

"I think not."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind later," she said.

Predictably enough, at around ten o'clock, Snape found himself ensconced in a chair, shielded from the sun by a black parasol. He was covered in blankets, a Slytherin scarf draped around his neck.

Had he no power over that woman? No wonder he usually stayed as far away from the Hospital Wing as possible. But he was at her mercy now, and she was obviously milking _that_ for all it was worth.

Though, well... The damnable fresh air was nice.

"All right, Severus?" she was saying now, poking her head underneath the parasol. "I've brought you some lemonade."

"If it makes you happy. Not that I have any choi-"

"You have a visitor."

Snape at once imagined Dumbledore walking on to the terrace and pictured himself grabbing the old man by the front of his robes, demanding to be released from Pomfrey's care.

But the mediwitch said, "It's Miss Granger. Apparently you've become a fan of Sherlock Holmes."

Snape groaned. He sank deeper in his chair and burrowed in his scarf until it came up to his eyes.

"Come over here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "The professor's been anxious to find out what happens in the next chapter."

"Really? Oh, I knew it!" the Gryffindor said, sauntering into view. "It's a really good part, professor."

"Miss Granger," came Snape's muffled voice. "I am a little tired."

Her face fell.

"But..." he said, after hesitating for a second, "Do go on. I hope you won't be offended if I drift off in the middle of your narrative."

"Of course not, professor."

"Well, I'll just go sort out your latest package, Hermione," Pomfrey said, and left them alone.

Hermione was about to start when Snape said, "Miss Granger... Madam Pomfrey had to use one of your Muggle ointments last night, it had an ingredient I can't recall. She called it miraculous... Asporan..."

She blinked and then said, "Oh, I think you mean Aspirin, professor."

"Ah, yes. That's it. I was wondering... Surely books have been written about this medicine?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to bring you some?"

"Yes. If you don't mind, Miss Granger."

"I'd be glad to, professor." She paused and said, "I hope you don't think I'm being... uh, overly inquisitive..."

To her surprise, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and she knew he was smiling.

"Well, sir, I wanted to ask why you were curious about Aspirin."

He remained silent for a while and she was afraid she'd been impertinent. Finally, he said, "Miss Granger, yesterday evening, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named summoned me, and somehow, your ointment calmed the burning produced by the Dark Mark."

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. "You were summoned?"

He nodded, and sighed. "I am aware, Miss Granger, that I am... a harsh man. But I am indeed grateful for your help, and... Perhaps calling you a little know-it-all has not been one of my most appropriate statements."

"I, sir... I have been known to, well, to talk too much sometimes," she said, looking down at her feet.

"I know what it is to be under appreciated, Miss Granger. However, I assure you that the entire faculty knows that you are one of our most gifted students, and you must not worry about impressing us any more than we already are."

Her chest hitched, and he thought he heard a sob.

_Well, Severus... you make them cry no matter what._

He reached over to her and quickly patted her hand twice. "There, there. Tears are not necessary, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, wiping her eyes.

"Why don't you read the next chapter of your book for me now?"

She busied herself with the thick book on her lap, flipping through the pages with clumsy fingers, and began to read.

[_]

A day later, Pomfrey had to admit defeat. The Potions Master was well enough to go back to his dungeons.

"You still need to take it easy for a few more days," she said. "In case you've forgotten, you were seriously ill-"

"Yes, I know, Poppy. On the verge of death," he said as she helped him dress. "I promise to be good, and not exert myself needlessly. _And_ to come and see you the instant I feel unwell, which is highly unlikely, considering you were the one who cared for me."

"Severus Snape. Don't tell me you're trying to mollify me."

"Mollifying people is not a talent I possess."

"I guess I can't complain. I was able to keep you here almost a week, for once."

She adjusted his collar, and he cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Oh, one of these days, you're going to stay stuck like that," she said.

"If it hasn't happened yet, it never will. I've done it on daily basis during my potions classes for the past fifteen years."

"Impossible man."

"May I go now, Poppy?"

"All right, off with you then. And don't forget, if you-"

"Yes, mother."

The shocked expression on her face was priceless. "Humor, Professor Snape? Are you sure you're quite well? Plus I'll have you know that I'm not that much older than you."

"How disappointing. I've always preferred a mature woman."

She shook her head. "If your students knew that getting out of the Hospital Wing is all it takes to put you in such a good mood, there would be a lot more potions accidents in your class."

For a second, he looked deflated. He'd have to mop up after Lockhart now, no doubt. There wasn't a chance in hell that the gilded fool had followed the regular curriculum, although Dumbledore had said the children had been working harder than ever on their own.

"Severus? Is something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, no. I was just thinking about Lockhart wrecking my dungeons..."

"Now don't you start fussing, professor. I want you to rest until monday at least."

"I will... _rest_... until tomorrow. Not a day more."

They glared at each other like the French and the English during the Hundred Year War.

"I have not put my foot down often in your case, if ever. But-" she said more loudly before he could interrupt her, "the fact is, I am in a position of authority at Hogwarts."

"I am going to my dungeons now, and will wait until tomorrow morning to grade the towering pile of essays I know Lockhart has graciously left on my desk. He is much too preoccupied with his own reflection to perform his duties."

"Why is it so hard for you to relax?"

"Because," he said, teeth clenched, "I don't like to be alone with my thoughts. Does that satisfy you? I don't expect you, or anyone, to understand."

"In that case, I have the perfect solution for you. Dinner's on me this weekend."

"What?"

"If you need a little distraction to keep your mind off things, I'm volunteering for the job, Severus."

He sputtered. "I- Poppy- this is... I don't mean to insult you, but allow me to decline-"


	10. A toast to friends

"Oh, come now, Severus. When was the last time you've had a home cooked meal? Can you even cook, I wonder?"

Dark red blotches appeared on his cheekbones, and his lip curled. "In case you've forgotten, I am a Potions Master. Don't you think preparing a mixed salad is perfectly within the range of my abilities?"

"A mixed salad? No wonder you're so lean. I meant, a home cooked meal: steak, potatoes with butter, freshly baked scones-"

"I can get a House Elf to do that for me any old bloody time I want."

"Which I'm sure is often."

"I'm a busy man, Poppy, I don't have time for, for nonsense-"

"Such as eating every now and then?"

He raked his hand through his hair. "You are the most infuriating person on earth, and that includes Potter."

"Tomorrow night, six o'clock, then. I assume you won't need to be escorted to my quarters?"

He stalked out of the room.

[_]

Snape looked at the clock. He got up, and sat down in his armchair again.

_I'm not going. Blasted, maddening witch..._

His dark eyes darted toward the clock.

_It's not like I have to go. I don't have to answer to her. I'm a former Death Eater, for crying out loud. She should be shaking with fear._

Poppy, shaking with fear. Snape smirked at the thought. That was about as likely as Fudge winning Witch Weekly's "Most Fashionably Dressed Wizard of the Year" award.

Snape drummed his fingers against the armrest. Would she be angry if he failed to show up?

Maybe. Perhaps.

_Definitely._

Faking an illness was certainly not going to get him out of this predicament.

He rose, defeated.

"Might as well get it over with."

The massive pile of essays that he'd predicted Lockhart had left on his desk was still there. The Potions Master had been unable to concentrate on anything all day. Except, that is, for his dinner with Pomfrey. If this got out, he'd never live it down. Bullied into having dinner -what a disgrace. Was he not the Head of the House of Slytherin?

_Severus, you are so full of crap._

Then, he straightened. Thought she could have fun at his expense, did she.

He headed for the door and picked up the bouquet of flowers that lay on the small table next to the coat hanger.

_Let's see if THAT doesn't shut her up._

[_]

Pomfrey looked at the clock.

Two more minutes, and he'd be late, which could only mean one of three things: he was sulking in his private quarters, he was in the Headmaster's office, trying to convince Albus she had lost her marbles, or he'd gone into hiding.

If he was smart, he'd chosen the third option.

_Then again, what if... He could have been summoned_.

She was going back and forth between anger and worry when there was a curt knock at the door.

The mediwitch hurried to open it. She found herself face to face with a bunch of wild flowers.

"Here. I thought you might like to put them on the table, or something," Snape said.

"My. How... thoughtful of you, Severus." She took them from his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Well, do come in."

Snape followed her and glanced at the surroundings. Aside from the stone walls, everything, or almost, was white. But not a stark, antiseptic sort of white; it was soft and faded, in some places a bit gray, in others a bit yellow. The atmosphere reminded him of slightly wilted roses. It was calming. There was a pale blue throw on the sofa and a couple of books on the coffee table, along with a tea-stained mug.

He'd never seen Pomfrey's rooms before. This was a bit unexpected, but in a pleasant way. After spending his childhood in a place where a speck of dust was a calamity, he liked his ink spots, his haphazard stacks of parchments, his disarrayed collection of jars. To his relief, it now seemed unlikely the mediwitch would yell at him for leaving crumbs on the tablecloth.

"I bet you thought the furniture would be covered in plastic," she said.

He gave her a quizzical look, and she chuckled.

"Over the years, I've heard a lot of funny stories from students who are familiar with Muggles. Not much else they can do but talk when they're in the Hospital Wing, sometimes."

"I can _only_ imagine," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She took him to a small dining room that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds.

"Make yourself at home, Severus. Dinner's ready."

"It does smell rather good."

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

She poured him a glass of red, then filled her own glass.

"I'll be right back," she said. A few minutes later, she emerged from the kitchen with two large plates.

"Here you are, professor."

"It looks delicious," Snape said, eyeing the juicy steak, buttered vegetables sprinkled with rosemary, and golden bread rolls in front of him.

"I've always loved to cook. It helps me relax," she said, and sat down.

"I gather you've hidden this talent from the House Elves? They would be wringing their hands if they knew what's been going on in here."

"As my mother used to say, what would wizardkind do without House Elves, starve?"

"I suppose so," Snape said with a fleeting smile.

"Well, dig in, Severus. If my mother had met you, she would've also said that you need fattening up."

Snape muttered, sliced a piece of steak and brought it to his mouth. "Oh," he said. "Oh."

"Do you like it?"

"It's... noteworthy," he said, chewing. "Outstanding, actually."

"Glad you like it. Glad you're here, Severus."

"Heavens knows I came willingly."

She lifted her glass. "To friends."

After a moment, he imitated her gesture. "To... friends."

Their glasses met with a soft clinking sound, and Snape and Pomfrey drank.

They ate in silence for a while, then Pomfrey said, "This isn't so bad, is it?"

"I thought I'd made it clear your cooking skills were superb."

"No, I meant interacting with another human being, Severus."

"Poppy, while I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, I'd prefer it if we left my social life out of this." He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp.

"You have no social life. It'd be like mentioning something that doesn't exist."

"All the more reason to leave it alone, then."

"You don't realize how much we worry about you, do you?"

He wiped his lips and flung his napkin on the table. "You are all wasting valuable energy by doing so." More quietly, he said, "Anyway, I don't believe you. I know what I am, what people think of me. Not that I care in the least."

"That would explain why you're so charming."

"Remind me again why I'm here?"

"Right now, chocolate truffle cake, if you're done with that steak."

He sighed. "Do you need help-"

"Nonsense. You're my guest. Won't be a second."

When she returned with the cake, he was rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine. Just a small headache." He looked up. "Chocolate will help."

"I'm not so sure about that, but here you go," she said, handing him the plate.

She filled their cups with tea. "Sugar?"

"One."

They started on dessert and she said, "How's the cake?"

"I think you know the answer."

"Indulge me, professor."

"I don't believe a House Elf could have done any better."

She spurted her tea and laughed. "It's such a shame so few people know about this terrific sense of humor of yours."

"There hasn't been much call for it in my line of work."

"I bet your class could benefit from a few laughs."

"Does constant snickering from the Slytherins at the expense of the Gryffindors qualify?"

"I'd like to know whose idea it was to stick those two houses together," Pomfrey said, shaking her head.

"Oh, it's part of Albus's master plan, no doubt."

"Come again?"

"His plan to drive me completely insane and have me interned at St. Mungo's before the Dark Lord can kill me."

The smile died from Pomfrey's lips. "Why _do_ you do it?"

"Because no one else can. Albus knows it. He wishes it were otherwise, but..." He shrugged. "I am prepared to make the necessary sacrifices."

"Every time you're carried in the Hospital Wing, Severus, I'm afraid that-" Her eyes grew bright and she looked away, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't mind me. All of this, the war... The injured, the ones I can't save... Sometimes, it's a little hard to keep going."

"The only way I've been able to is by limiting attachments," Snape said. "It's better for everyone involved."

"How about some brandy? Let's go sit in the living room."

He nodded.


	11. A day with Poppy, a night with Voldie

A couple of hours later, their sporadic conversation had yielded to a comfortable silence, then they both became lost in their own thoughts. Pomfrey was sipping the last of her brandy when she noticed that her guest had fallen asleep.

"Severus?"

He snored softly in response.

She shook her head. The Potions Master wasn't quite one hundred percent yet. Of course, when was he ever? She knew that he often healed his injuries himself, loath as he was to crawl into the Hospital Wing after surviving another encounter with his "fellow" Death Eaters. On top of that, he was overworked; his diet was inadequate at best; he suffered from insomnia. Nothing short of lying on a beach in Tahiti for a year would restore him to health.

"Oh, you'd love that, I'm sure," she whispered, smiling at the thought. "A coconut shell in one hand and a Potions manual in the other." He looked so peaceful, ensconced in the cozy white cushions, that she didn't have the heart to wake him. So she covered him with the blue throw and carefully eased a pillow behind his head.

He barely stirred.

"Good night, Severus." She removed his shoes, turned the lights off, and retired to her bedroom.

[_]

The dungeons were not this warm.

Nor were his blankets so soft.

And was that frying bacon he smelled?

The Potions Master, who by now was spread out on Pomfrey's couch, mumbled and frowned.

"Severus? Are you awake?"

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt-upright. "Where-"

Pomfrey came out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands on her apron. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Feeling rested? I hope the couch was comfortable enough."

He stared at her and looked around, as if trying to figure out how he'd ended up asleep in the mediwitch's living room, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

The dinner. Much more relaxing than he'd expected.

"Don't tell me I nodded off after just two glasses of brandy," he said.

"Oh, you were exhausted."

"You should have woken me."

"You were just fine where you were. I don't know how you can stand those cold chambers of yours."

He pushed the blanket away and slipped his feet into his shoes. "At least in the dungeons I am almost certain to find relative peace and quiet."

"Well, I'd rather you not get a chill so soon after your illness. Why don't you go splash some water on your face while I set the table?"

He threw a long-suffering look her way and retreated into the bathroom.

By the time he returned, a veritable feast had been laid on the table, which was crowded with plates and bowls: there were fresh strawberries and cream, waffles, eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, ham, cheese, dripping toast, steaming black coffee and orange juice. Pomfrey herself was at work on a pile of pancakes.

Snape blinked and said, "Is the rest of the staff joining us?"

"Sit down and eat up," she said, pointing at a chair.

He grumbled, took the indicated seat and reached for the coffee pot.

"It's a special occasion, Severus," she said. "Let loose. Have a strawberry."

"You are fast becoming the bane of my existence." Snape surveyed the array of food before him and said, "A serving of plain oatmeal would have sufficed."

She cringed. "Plain oatmeal? You know, for a spy, you're not very adventurous."

"If your life was as complex as mine, you'd learn to treasure the simpler things."

"Think of this weekend as a holiday," she said. "Enjoy yourself a little."

"I assume you cooked all this?"

"Of course I did."

"Well... fine." He put a couple of eggs, a few spoonfuls of potatoes and a slice of ham on his plate.

"Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes. I hope... I didn't mean to be an imposition-"

She tossed a strawberry at him and hit him square on the forehead. He smirked.

"Eat, Severus."

Before he knew it, he'd finished his plate and helped himself to more eggs and potatoes, adding some cheese and bacon. "If your goal was to trick me into gaining ten pounds, I daresay, mission accomplished. Are you quite happy now?"

"Oh, there's still lunch," Pomfrey said, looking at him over her cup of tea.

He stopped chewing, stared back at her, and quickly swallowed. "You don't truly expect me to hang around with you for the entire weekend. I already told you yesterday, Poppy, I have essays to gra-"

"How about a walk around the gardens after breakfast? It'll give you an opportunity to burn all those calories."

"I should be yelling at you right now, and marching out of here."

She filled his cup again and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how gracious you really are underneath the scowl."

"It is fortunate for me that no one would believe you anyway."

The Potions Master's day in the company of the school's mediwitch turned out to be more pleasant than he could have imagined. Perhaps he spent too much time alone, as she'd previously suggested. Even when they weren't talking and were just sitting together, sharing another glass of brandy while watching the sun set beyond her living room windows, like they did after dinner, he discovered that simply having someone else nearby felt nice.

Earlier, they'd had a stroll on the grounds, then had lunch in Hogsmeade and did a bit of shopping. It had been a bright fall day, with just enough crispness in the air to cheer him. He'd chanced on a 1959 edition of _The Fantastic World of Muggle Elixirs_, and before they returned to Hogwarts, he allowed Pomfrey to buy him a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but he'd enjoyed himself.

"It's getting late," he said when the sky began to darken. "I think I should head back to the dungeons lest I fall asleep on your couch again. We wouldn't want to create a scandal."

Pomfrey's laughter was immediately joined by his.

Then suddenly, he dropped his glass and choked in agony, doubling over.

"Severus!" The mediwitch rushed to his seat and crouched down in front of him. "What is it? Severus, Severus!"

"S- summoning... me," he said, barely able to breathe.

"Does it usually... is it always this-"

"No... m- must be... upset... I have to... to go..."

"Let me get the ointment," Pomfrey said, her face white. "This can't be good-"

He raised his head, and his eyes met hers. "I have to go."

After a moment, she nodded, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Be careful... Please, be careful."

"I must... retrieve some things from my chambers."

"Use my fireplace," she said, helping him to his feet.

They made their way toward the hearth and she threw some floo powder into the dying flames. "Professor Snape's quarters."

He tried to smile and said, "I'll see you for breakfast... tomorrow. Make me some pancakes?"

"Whatever you want, Severus," she said, her throat growing tight.

Then he was gone.

She gazed at the fireplace, and went to change into her uniform.

[_]

Pain.

Snape stopped trying to move and concentrated on figuring out where he was.

What had happened?

_Lucius informs me that you were... ill._

Snape began to tremble and felt a hand on his head. He heard a soft voice, but couldn't make out the words. His attempt to speak was futile; nothing but a croak emerged from his mouth.

Then he remembered screaming.

_Under no circumstances is a Death Eater to ignore my call.__Crucio._

Snape moaned. He felt something like a pin prick on his arm and flinched.

"... morphine." The soft voice again. "Severus..." Noises. "... hear me?"

_However, I fear a much more troubling matter has come to my attention, Severus._

The Dark Lord knew.

"His heart rate is going up-"

Footsteps, rustling sounds.

"... a normal reaction to the drug."

He couldn't be alive.

_You are a traitor. Crucio._

The Potions Master struggled to open his eyes. "Albussss..."

"I'm here, Severus. Breathe slowly. You're home."

The pain was fading now, and he could have sworn he was floating right off the bed.

Bed?

The last thing he knew, he'd been lying face down in mud and dried leaves, and shivering...

"He... He-Who-Must... Not-Be-Named... knows..."

"Albus, don't excite him. Don't talk, Severus, rest."

Snape's right eyelid fluttered; the other was swollen shut. "Poppy..."

"Shhh," the mediwitch said, dabbing his forehead with a cloth. "Your jaw is badly bruised. I know you can't feel it because of the drugs we've given you, but it'd be better if you stayed quiet."

Snape's lips twitched and his eye rolled lazily in its socket before closing again. "Mmm... is it Muggle..."

"Yes, dear," Pomfrey said.

"Mmm."

"You're safe now. We're taking good care of you."

He nodded, the gesture barely perceptible. Then he frowned and said, "No..."

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

"Death Eaters... thought they were... going to kill me."

How long did they beat him? He'd been kicked, punched, clobbered, over and over... He remembered the taste of blood after one of his ribs had snapped...

_Traitor._

He moaned.

"It's all right, lad," Dumbledore said. "I won't let you go back." He whispered a spell and Snape was asleep.


	12. Adverse reaction

The Headmaster then turned to Pomfrey. "How _is_ he?"

"It's nothing that a few weeks' rest won't heal. And Dr. Moorland will be on hand until Severus is more fully recovered."

The man who'd been helping her stabilize the Potions Master nodded. "He's going to be fine, Professor Dumbledore. Unfortunately, we non-magical folk don't have ways to make bruises disappear as quickly as you wizards do, but I'm sure you'll agree our drugs can be quite effective."

"Poppy and I are grateful for your help, doctor," Dumbledore said. "I'm certain that Severus will feel he's in good hands once he's had a chat with you. He'd begun looking into Muggle cures, as I told you."

"I am looking forward to answering any questions Professor Snape may have concerning our medicinal drugs, of course." The tall man gently gripped Severus's wrist and checked his pulse. "He's responding to the morphine very well."

"I'm glad you could come on such short notice, Dr. Moorland," Dumbledore said.

"It was clearly an emergency, professor. My dealings with the staff at St. Mungo's may be infrequent, but I am their Muggle liaison, and I've never failed to respond to a call. Not to mention the fact that this is a most unique case."

"I understand Arthur Weasley briefed you about the nature of Professor Snape's... activities?"

Dr. Moorland nodded again. "He told me that he'd acted on your specific request because of this." He turned Snape's arm over, exposing the Dark Mark, and indicated the yellowish bumps that outlined it. "The rash you noticed around the mark is indeed unusual."

"And you heard what Severus said, Albus," Pomfrey said. "I don't like this at all."

"We'll have to monitor it closely for changes," Moorland said. "In the meantime, I'll treat it with cortisone." He looked at Snape with a thoughful expression. "When he starts to improve, I'd like to give him a series of vitamin shots. The tests I've done on him show that he's anemic. We also need to do something about his rather high blood pressure."

"Is it any wonder, he never listens to me, the stubborn mule!" Pomfrey said. She jerked the potions cabinet door open and snatched a roll of bandages from it. "I can barely get him to eat, let alone rest and take minimal care of himself like a normal human being."

"Between you and Dr. Moorland, I suspect he'll have to learn now," Dumbledore said, a merry twinkle glinting in his eyes.

[_]

Snape had awoken in the Hospital Wing on countless occasions, and the smell had always filled him with a mix of apprehension and fury. This time, however, it instantly calmed the surge of anguish he'd felt upon regaining consciousness.

He wasn't Voldemort's prisoner. He was at Hogwarts. Safe.

"Severus?"

An even greater sense of relief washed over him at the sound of Pomfrey's worried voice.

"Poppy..." he murmured, too weak to open his eyes.

"Are you hurting anywhere, dear?"

He coughed and winced. "Everywhere, I think."

She clucked her tongue, and then her hand was on his forehead. "And you've got a fever. Let me get Dr. Moorland so he can have a look at you."

"Who?"

"St. Mungo's sent us a Muggle doctor. He's been giving you some drugs we wouldn't be able to get otherwise."

"Oh."

"You just lie still. I'll be right back."

A few moments later, he heard her returning to the Hospital Wing and opened his good eye to see who this doctor was.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," the dark-haired, middle-aged man said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a... hippogriff... ran me over."

"I'll assume that can't be terribly good," Moorland said. He slipped on his stethoscope and listened to Snape's heartbeat. "Don't worry, though. You'll be better before you know it." He then carefully began to prod the Potions Master's abdomen; despite his gentle touch, Snape gasped.

"I'm sorry, professor. You've sustained quite a bit of damage, I'm afraid."

"Not for the first time, either," Pomfrey said. "Heaven knows how many injuries he's patched up himself over the years."

"I've... gotten by-" Snape said, breath catching in his throat when Moorland's fingers came across yet another bruised area. Sweat had begun to glisten on Snape's pained features.

"I'd keep quiet, if I were you," Pomfrey said. She dabbed his face with a cool cloth and he relaxed.

The doctor opened his bag and retrieved a number of small bottles. "I'm going to give you a few pills, professor, for the pain, and to bring your temperature down. You need to sleep, and allow your body to mend itself."

"Maybe he should eat something first," Pomfrey said.

"He won't fall asleep right away. Perhaps a bowl of fruit," Moorland said.

"Good idea. I'll have a House Elf fetch one from the kitchens."

Moments later, Pomfrey returned with a small serving of diced pears. The doctor had prepared Snape's next dose and placed it on the bedside table in a plastic cup.

"You will have to... explain to me what all those... pills are," Snape said. "Most curious..."

"It'll be my pleasure."

Pomfrey sat next to the bed. "All right, Severus, you need some nourishment."

"Again, you feed me," Snape said. He would have smirked, but he was already beginning to feel drowsy.

"Someone has to, apparently," she said, spooning the fruit into his unresisting mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the doctor remove bandages and inspect Snape's forearm.

"Itches..." Snape mumbled between mouthfuls.

The odd yellow rash had started to appear on the mark itself, while the pustules that ringed it were more numerous, lighter in shade, and seemingly filled with liquid.

Shortly after he'd consumed the last of the fruit, Snape's drooping eyelids finally drifted shut.

"What do you think?" Pomfrey asked Moorland.

"It's a bit worrisome. I wouldn't be so concerned if I knew that it had nothing to do with this mark. However..." He shook his head.

"Let me," she said, and took out her wand. She waved it over the mark and frowned. "I can't get a clear reading. Something's blocking me."

"I fear there's not much we can do other than wait. When it becomes obvious exactly what this rash is becoming, I'll be in a better position to decide on an adequate treatment. Right now, I can only guess. Whatever it is, it appears to be progressing fast, and the cortisone is having little effect," Moorland said.

"The Headmaster needs to see this-"

No sooner had Pomfrey uttered the words that Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing.

"I thought I'd check on Severus," the old wizard said, approaching the bed. "Did the poor lad wake at all?"

"Albus, take a look at his arm," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and peered at the rash that marred the Potions Master's limb. "Mmh." He swept his palm over it. "Dark magic is definitely at work here." He repeated the gesture he'd just made and stroked his beard. "It's somehow entwined with Severus's allergy to porcupine needles, and triggering an adverse reaction."

"Dr. Moorland already tried one remedy, and it didn't work," Pomfrey said, unable to repress her agitation. "What if..."

"The process is in its initial stages, Madam Pomfrey," the doctor said. "I'm certain we'll be equipped to deal with the outcome, once it manifests itself. As you recall, the morphine stopped his pain, and the medication I just gave him worked as well."

"We'll get him through this, Poppy," Dumbledore said.

She smoothed Snape's blankets, then brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "He's been through so much already." She glanced at Moorland and said, "He'll be sleeping for a while?"

"Until late this afternoon, no doubt."

"That can only do him good," Dumbledore said. "I don't need to tell you, Dr. Moorland, that Severus has long neglected himself in the name of our cause. I've often debated whether I should let him go on like this." He sighed. "At any rate, his spying days are over."

"As I told Madam Pomfrey, I have several healing therapies planned for your Potions Master. Much of the damage can be repaired, and even reversed."

Dumbledore bent down and patted Snape's cheek. "Heaven knows the lad deserves it."

[_]

Pomfrey put her quill down and rose from her seat.

"Severus?"

The Potions Master, who'd been in a peaceful slumber all afternoon, had suddenly groaned, and a sharp quiver rocked his body.

She hurried towards the bed, pointing her wand at her throat as she did so. "Dr. Moorland, come to the Hospital Wing right away!"

Snape was shivering from head to toe. Drops of perspiration began to streak his face and he cried out; she ran her wand over him again and again, beads of sweat now dotting her own brow.

"What's happening to him, Merlin, this doesn't make any sense-"


	13. Horror in the Hospital Wing

"Madam Pomfrey, what's wrong?" Moorland said, rushing in the ward.

"I don't know, he was sleeping and then he just started convulsing, I can't-"

As quickly as the episode had begun, it stopped. Snape lay unconscious on the bed and trembled slightly.

"He's burning up," Pomfrey said. "He was fine just a minute ago."

The doctor began undoing the bandage around Snape's arm, revealing the Dark Mark.

The blisters were now filled with a blood-red fluid, some of which had ruptured, and a faint, foul-smelling odor emanated from what could only be described as a swollen, festering wound.

Pomfrey's throat clamped shut.

"No wonder his blood pressure was so high," Moorland said. "It looks like gas gangrene. Somehow, the allergic reaction led to a subcutaneous infection at the site of the trauma."

"Will we have to amputate?" Pomfrey said. Her voice faltered.

"Not yet, but I must removed the damaged tissue right away." Moorland quickly set up an I.V. bag and inserted a needle in Snape's forearm. "I'm giving him penicillin. Set my instruments out, I have to operate on him, now."

Even as he said those words, the dark swelling was spreading before their eyes.

"I've never seen anything like this. It's... progressing too fast, I..." He grabbed a seringe and injected more drugs into Snape's body. "I don't think I can save his arm if I'm to save his life."

"We can use my wand," Pomfrey said, tears blurring her vision.

Moorland nodded. The gangrene was making its way past Snape's elbow.

Pomfrey took a deep breath.

_Forgive me, Severus_.

She murmured a spell, and the wand glowed red. She steadied her shaking hands and cut through Snape's flesh and bones as if slicing through butter, cauterizing his arm at the same time.

The mediwitch and the doctor watched, stunned, as the amputated section slowly melted and turned into a browish ooze that began eating through the mattress itself. Moorland immediately gathered the Potions Master in his arms and carried him to another bed, but after a few more seconds, the smoke that was rising from the hole where part of Snape's arm had disappeared became a thin, ghostly wisp. Then there was nothing more.

"What in heaven's name..." Moorland swallowed. "Thank God we weren't too late."

Pomfrey went to the Potions Master's side. "I'm so sorry, Severus." She could no longer hold back her tears, and touched the side of his face. "I'm so sorry..."

Moorland checked Snape's vital signs. "He's stable, though his system was severely shocked. He'll need a lot of analgesics. I'll have to stop by at my clinic for more."

"Thank you, doctor," Pomfrey said. She wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief and busied herself tucking Snape in.

"I'll go get the Headmaster," Moorland said quietly, leaving Pomfrey and Snape alone.

[_]

"My poor boy," Dumbledore said. The old wizard caressed Snape's head and sighed. "My dear Severus. How I've failed you."

Snape was pale, but his features were so peaceful, it was difficult to recognize him. Doctor Moorland had given him a massive dose of pain killers, and after coating Snape's stump with ointment, had carefully wrapped it with bandages. The Potions Master had not uttered a sound or stirred at all while this was taking place. He slept, looking as though he was having a pleasant dream.

"At least He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won't be able to hurt him anymore," Pomfrey said. "I hope that monster rots in hell forever."

"If only I'd guessed in time," Moorland said, "perhaps we wouldn't have had to..."

"Don't blame yourself, doctor," Dumbledore said. "I don't think any of us could have imagined such horror." He continued to stroke Snape's hair tenderly. "And we will take good care of you from now on, Severus. I wish this wouldn't have happened, that there had been some other way... Perhaps it was for the best."

"It's going to be hard on him," Pomfrey said.

"I know. But we'll help him," Dumbledore said.

[_]

For the next few days, Snape was so heavily medicated that he regained consciousness only for brief periods of time and was too groggy to speak much other than nonsense. Doctor Moorland had wanted to make certain no trace of infection remained, and that his patient rested as fully as possible. Then, a day after the doctor reduced Snape's medication, the Potions Master opened his eyes and frowned.

"W- where..."

"Severus?"

The mediwitch came into view and Snape instantly felt calmer. He moistened his lips and tried to form more words. His mind was a jumble. His frown deepened.

"Head... feels like... stuffed with cotton."

"You were very ill. Try not to think too much."

He rubbed his face with his right hand, then Pomfrey saw his stump move; he froze. She opened her mouth but found there was nothing she could say. Sooner or later, he would discover what had happened.

The Potions Master looked down at what remained of his left arm, and kept staring. At last he said, "The Dark Lord... took his mark back."

"I'm sorry, Severus. We tried to, we did everything we could, but... yes, he took it back. We barely managed to save you." Pomfrey's eyes watered.

"It's all right, Poppy," Snape said. "I know you only did what you had to. I understand."

"I wish we had been able to do more."

"I was prepared to sacrifice my life. This is..." His voice shook. "A small loss. A small price to pay, really."

"Does anything hurt?"

He closed his eyes. "Ribs are sore. It's not too bad."

"Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"You should eat. Is there something you'd like?"

"Whatever. You choose."

A sad smile drew itself on her lips. "When you're better, I'll make you breakfast again. In the meantime, you'll have to settle for a House Elf."

"Alas."

A few moments later, she placed a tray on the bedside table and picked up a bowl filled with hot cereal.

"Look, your favorite plain oatmeal, Severus."

He gazed at her, and attempted to smile. "I suppose it'll have to do for now."

"Picky, are we?"

"It's your fault, you know."

She began feeding him, then suddenly his eyes overflowed with tears and he started to cry.

"Oh, Severus," Pomfrey said, putting the bowl down. She sat on the edge of the bed and took him in her arms. "I know."

He wept against her shoulder. "Ridiculous-"

"No, it isn't."

Shaking his head, he clung to her with his good arm. "Damned bastard..."

"I know... I know."

At last, she felt him relax against her, and cradling his head, she lowered him onto the pillow.

"Forgive me," he said, looking away. His face was blotchy and damp. "I didn't mean to... subject you to such melodramatics. I must be getting old."


	14. Phantom pains

"You've spent too many years holding everything inside," Pomfrey said. "It's time to be yourself, Severus. Time to be a human being again."

"I'm too tired for that right now. I'll stick to being surly and unbearable, if that's fine with you."

"Want to give eating another go?"

He sighed, and nodded. "I suppose so."

"Good."

She managed to get him to eat almost the entire bowl, then he said, "Thank you, Poppy. I've had enough." His eyelids were growing heavy; he yawned.

"Take this pill before you fall asleep," she said. "It's for the pain."

She put the medication in his mouth and helped him drink from a glass of water.

"Are you staying?" he whispered.

"Of course, Severus. You just rest."

His breathing deepened and his head rolled to one side.

"I'll be right here," Pomfrey said, and kissed his forehead.

[_]

It soon became obvious that the Potions Master was determined not to let the result of his latest encounter with Voldemort destroy his life. Though there were moments when Pomfrey and Dr. Moorland's care made him lose his patience, he generally submitted to their wishes without too much grumbling. As the days went by, his wounds began to heal and he regained some of his strength, but the mediwitch wouldn't let him leave the Hospital Wing until she was entirely satisfied that he was indeed better, which caused him to snap at her more than once. She placated her irritable patient by supplying him with piles of books about the Muggle medicine they'd been using in his treatment. He devoured them one after the other, and became increasingly fascinated by chemistry and biology.

"Perhaps we can visit some colleagues of mine, and they can give you a tour of their labs," Dr. Moorland told him one morning. Dumbledore had convinced Pomfrey to have breakfast with him in the Great Hall, and the mediwitch had left the Hospital Wing only after hearing Dr. Moorland's repeated assurances that Snape was no longer in any danger. Snape, propped up against a mound of pillows and engrossed in another thick medical tome, had waved her out of the room, echoing the doctor's words.

"Do you think so? I would very much like that," the Potions Master said.

"We'll definitely have to arrange it, then. I thought we'd start the vitamin treatment I spoke to you about a little while ago, do you remember?"

Snape nodded.

The doctor removed a box from his bag, opened it, and showed the Potions Master a glass vial filled with a dark liquid.

"This contains iron, vitamins and herbs, all of which will help strengthen you and ease your tension," Moorland said. He broke the tips and poured the liquid in a glass of orange juice. "I'll want you to take this three times a day for at least a month, then we can reduce it to once a day."

"Very well," Snape said. Suddenly, he frowned and went to touch his left arm, but quickly put his hand back in his lap instead.

"Professor?"

"Nothing. It's -nothing," Snape said, but he was growing paler with each passing second.

"Is your arm troubling you?" the doctor said. "Let me see-"

"Let you see what? There isn't bloody well anything to look at, is there?" Then Snape gasped and screwed his eyes shut, gripping the top portion of his left arm.

"Take some deep breaths, you're having phantom pains."

"It's... worse... than the other times..." Sweat was pouring down Snape's features.

"Professor, I thought I asked you to tell me if you were experiencing any sort of pain."

"What's going on in here?" Pomfrey said, rushing in the ward with Dumbledore at her side. "I knew I shouldn't have left!"

"He seems to be suffering from phantom limb syndrome," the doctor said. "Professor Snape has not been completely honest with me about his injury."

Snape complexion turned red and he snarled at the doctor. "What... what did you want me to say? Oh, by the way... my non-existent arm is hurting me?" Then he forgot about his anger and cried out. "How can this be? It feels like... like he's summoning me."

Dumbledore waved his wand over the Potions Master. "I can detect no dark magic. Doctor?"

"The pain he endured before the amputation is causing this," Moorland said.

Snape cried out again, and he couldn't stop the tears that leaked from his eyes.

"_Dolorosa reducio_," Pomfrey said, tapping her wand against Snape's upper arm, with no apparent effect. "Why isn't he responding to wand magic?"

"Mad Eye Moody once told me that it hadn't been very useful when it came to his amputated leg," Dumbledore said. "Apparently, because the limb is missing, the spell is weakened. But he was soothed by potions."

"The magic may be as fooled by the spinal cord hyperexcitability as the brain is," Moorland said.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Pomfrey said.

Moorland grabbed the bottle of Aspirin on the bedside table and helped Snape swallow two of them. "This will increase the blood flow in his arm, and lessen the pain." He then fished a silver nylon mesh out of his bag.

Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and peered at the odd strip of fabric. "What is that?"

"It's called Farabloc. The thin steel fibers lower the levels of creatine phosphokinase enzymes, which will relieve the cramping in his muscles. I'd hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but... Madam Pomfrey, would you assist me for a moment?"

"Of course."

"It was made to fit around his shoulder and upper arm."

Both he and Pomfrey maneuvered Snape so that he was lying on his side, and the doctor slipped the Farabloc into place. A few moments later, the Potions Master's breathing was less ragged, and he was gently rolled onto his back again.

"Severus?" Pomfrey said, wiping his face. "Is it better?"

"Yes." Snape closed his eyes. "I am feeling a wonderful, pulsing warmth."

"The anti-inflammatory pills I have given him will also reduce the discomfort," Moorland said.

"Why wasn't I told about these... phantom pains?" Pomfrey said, rounding on the doctor and Dumbledore.

"Now, now, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "We didn't know Severus was having them. I recalled my conversation with Mad Eye because of what just happened."

"Phantom limb syndrome doesn't occur in every case," Moorland said. "Your Professor Snape didn't listen to me. I'd specifically requested he inform me if he felt anything unusual."

"I didn't expect you meant I should tell you about my imaginary ills," Snape mumbled.

"Well, it is rather pointless to argue about it now," Dumbledore said. "Though you won't keep anything else from us, will you, Severus."

"Yes, yes, I promise," Snape said. "Is that acceptable to you? Poppy? Dr. Moorland?"

"I suppose it'll do for now," Pomfrey said. "But you and I will have a little talk later."

Snape groaned.

"Get some sleep, my boy. I shall come by again this afternoon," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, good... You can rescue me."

Pomfrey shook her head and tucked Snape in. "I'll go easy on you. It's been ages since I've lectured you, Severus. Don't tell me you haven't missed it a little."

"I've missed your cooking much more," he murmured. He was starting to fall asleep.

"If you behave, I'll make you dinner and bring it here."

"Deal," he said, and slumber claimed him.

"I swear he'll be the death of me," Pomfrey said. "Should we be worrying about any other strange reactions, Dr. Moorland?"

"I sincerely hope not. As you know, this case is somewhat out of the ordinary for me."

"It's out of the ordinary for everyone involved," Dumbledore said. "But I believe everything is under control now. So perhaps you can tell me more about how you introduced our Potions Master to your cooking, Poppy."

It was the mediwitch's turn to wish for rescue.

[_]

"Can anyone tell me which ingredient is absent from the list?" Snape said.

It was a week later, and the Potions Master was back in the classroom. Once he was pronounced well enough to leave the Hospital Wing, Dr. Moorland had fitted him with a prosthetic limb, which Snape was still adjusting to. He used wand magic to compensate for the loss of his arm and found the handicap was not as difficult to cope with as he'd first feared.

He'd never been too concerned about aesthetics, after all... And at least, he was rid of the mark. The phantom pains hadn't bothered him since the last time. On the whole, it could have been worse.

Pomfrey hadn't been too pleased when he announced he would begin teaching again, saying he needed to rest after all he'd been through, but he wanted to resume his normal activities as soon as possible. Many of the children had seemed glad to see him and it raised his spirits, although he didn't let it show.

He wasn't a spy anymore, but he still felt like one. Perhaps, with time, he'd learn to let his guard down. A bit.

"Anyone?"

As usual, Hermione Granger was the only one whose hand was raised.

He sighed. "Miss Granger?"

"Crushed salamander tails, professor."

"Five points to Gryffindor." He paused. "Perhaps you can demonstrate to the rest of the class how to brew the potion. Then all of you can try to replicate what she has done."

He could tell they were trying very hard not to let their jaws drop.

She was about to start when Harry and Snape both drew in their breaths at the same time. Then Snape fell to the floor, clutching his prosthetic arm, while the Boy Who Lived gripped his forehead and doubled over.

Pandemonium broke out; half the students raced to the Potions Master, and the other half surrounded Harry.

"Professor! What's the matter?" Pansy Parkinson said, kneeling next to the trembling man.

"It -it'll p- pass," he said. His cheek was pressed against the stone floor and his hair was moist with sweat. The pain was so intense he could barely breathe; he fought not to black out.

_Phantom pain... only phantom pain... don't panic..._

He opened his eyes and suddenly realized he wasn't the only one who was in distress.

Something was wrong with Potter as well.

_No... can't be..._

"M- miss Parkinson... get... get the Head... master... hurry..."

The Slytherin was off before he could get all the words out of his mouth.


	15. The final confrontation

Draco began to loose Snape's cravat and was soon joined by Hermione, who unbuttoned the professor's collar.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Hermione said. "Harry's unconscious."

"He-Who-Must... Not-Be-Named... is t- trying to-" Snape felt as though his arm was being branded. He moaned and shuddered. It couldn't be mere phantom pain. Somehow, Voldemort was summoning him. Or torturing him.

"But... That's impossible, sir," Draco said. "How could he be calling you, now that-"

The Slytherin couldn't bear to say it.

Right before the feast celebrating Snape's return to health, Dumbledore told the students that their Potions Master, cursed by Voldermort for being a traitor, had narrowly escaped death and lost his arm as a result. An awed silence greeted the Headmaster's solemn declaration that Snape had spent most of his life protecting everyone at Hogwarts, usually by placing himself in tremendous danger.

The Potions Master, for his part, had kept his eyes fixed on his empty plate. However, when the children began applauding him, he looked around the room, as if to convince himself that his ears weren't being deceived, and stiffly inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Many Slytherins were elated to hear that they now had an ally, someone who could defend them against their own parents' evil expectations. When he entered the Slytherin Common Room later that evening, he was immediately surrounded by those who'd always yearned not to be doomed to receive the Dark Mark. He'd told them he would do everything in his power to prevent it.

And now, he was lying on the floor, writhing in pain; he was the one in need of help.

"The Headmaster will be here any minute, professor," Draco said. He turned to Hermione. "Granger, get a cloth or something."

"_Accio_ towel," she said, and it flew from the sink to her awaiting hand. "Try to breathe slowly, sir," she said, patting the Potions Master's sweat bathed features. As she spoke, Snape's body went limp.

"What's taking them so long?" Draco said.

At that moment, McGonagall burst into the dungeons, wand at the ready.

"Death Eaters have infiltrated Hogwarts! Come quickly, children-"

Then she saw Snape and hastened towards the unconscious man. "What on earth happened here?"

"Harry's scar started hurting him, and then Professor Snape, his arm... Something was hurting him too," Hermione said.

McGonagall pointed her wand at Snape. "_Enervate_."

He drew in a sharp breath, and his eyelids fluttered.

"Minerva..."

"Severus, can you stand? Death Eaters have broken through the wards, we have to get these children to safety."

"My quarters, they'll be out of harm's way," he said, struggling to his feet.

He swayed and she gripped his arm to steady him.

"I'm all right," he said. He took out his wand and aimed it at the wall behind his desk. "_Sanctorum Revelatus_."

Immediately, a large wooden door was revealed.

He waved his wand again. "Fluffy bunnies."

For a few seconds, they all forgot about the threat of Death Eaters and gaped at the Potions Master.

He raised his eyebrow. "Would you _ever_ have been able to guess this was my password?"

Silence.

"I thought so. Now, hurry." He retrieved a handkerchief from one of his pockets and wiped his forehead, which was once more beaded with sweat. "Mister Weasley, take Potter with you, and make sure he stays there after he wakes. All of you, come on, quickly." When all the students were massed in his quarters, he glared at them and said, "Don't you dare touch anything, am I understood?"

"But sir," Draco said, "aren't you coming in with us?"

"I am needed elsewhere. Don't worry, Mister Malfoy. As soon as the school is secured, I shall be back to fetch every one of you."

"Professor, you're in no condition to-"

"Miss Granger," Snape said, interrupting her, "I am counting on you to make certain your friends behave." He then stepped back and before the children could protest any further, he shut the massive door and warded it.

"Where is Albus?" Snape asked McGonagall.

"Last I saw him, he was in the Great Hall with Remus, fighting off a group of them."

"Any idea how they penetrated Hogwarts?"

"None. I was in the middle of a class when I heard shouts and went to investigate. I saw three Death Eaters come round the corner and raced back to the classroom. I herded the children down the secret passage... Severus, are you all right?"

"He's here, Minerva," he said, holding onto his desk. "I can feel it. My arm... Somehow, my arm is throbbing."

McGonagall blanched.

"We haven't an instant to lose. Let's go," he said.

"Perhaps the children were right. You should stay with them. You look like you're going to pass out."

"He still looks much better than I would have imagined," a malevolent voice said from the doorway.

With a swiftness that belied his weakened state, Snape lept in front of McGonagall, shielding her from Voldemort and the two Death Eaters that flanked him.

"How nice to see you... _almost_ in one piece," Voldemort said.

"Go to hell," Snape said, brandishing his wand like a sword.

The Dark Lord clucked his reptilian tongue. "Honestly, I am surprised. I hadn't anticipated you'd survive the curse. In any case, you were the key."

"What are you talking about?" Snape said. The hand that was clutching his wand had begun to shake.

"Not long after you 'returned' to the fold, Severus, I became aware that Dumbledore was using his spells to block my call whenever you were too injured or exhausted to answer. Unbeknown to you, my dear boy, your Dark Mark acted as a magical magnet. Dumbledore's wizardry left an imprint I knew I'd eventually be able to use to my own advantage. It was merely a question of extracting it from the mark. Which is precisely what I achieved by cursing you as I did. Like purifying gold with fire, you might say. It was then possible for me to forge Dumbledore's signature... Hence, my breaking his so-called unbreachable wards."

Snape's vision was blurring. "Why were you trying to summon me?"

"Summon you? I fear all you've endured has made you a bit daft, my boy." The Dark Lord paused, and a grimace that was meant to pass for a smile curved his lips. "You can still feel me then, can you. I must admit I'm intrigued. Almost a pity you have to die. But I told you: I have no tolerance for traitors." He narrowed his eyes.

Snape let out a strangled moan; his wand slid from his grasp and his knees buckled.

"Yes. You _can_ feel me," Voldemort said with a triumphant voice. "This will make everything much easier."

"Leave him be," McGonagall said, her wand trained on the evil wizard.

"Don't tempt me, woman," the Dark Lord said, looking at her as though she were a bothersome insect. "Unless you wish your demise to be a particularly unpleasant one."

Her wand crackled. "I said, leave him alone."

Voldemort waved his hand at her in a flash and sent her crashing into the wall.

Snape gathered every drop of strength he had left and hurled himself at the wizard.

"You filthy bastard!" he yelled, wrapping his hands around Voldemort's throat.

The dark wizard was so flabbergasted that he didn't react, but his minions tore Snape away from their master and proceeded to kick and punch him.

"Stop, he's mine," Voldemort said.

The Death Eaters immediately moved away from the bleeding Potions Master.

Voldemort pointed his wand at him. "_Crucio_."

Snape's back arched and he screamed. The torment went on, interminable, until at last it ceased and he lay twitching on the stone floor.

"What shall it be, Severus? Shall I be merciful?" Voldemort moved closer to him. "I loved you so, my boy. Perhaps I was too indulgent when it came to you... A shame, really. _Avada Kedavra_, then? An end to pain. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

The Potions Master said nothing.

"No last words for me," Voldemort snorted. "Very well. _Avada_-"

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Snape watched as red eyes turned green, and the Dark Lord fell into an awkward heap at the Headmaster's feet. On either side of Dumbledore stood Remus and Mad Eye Moody, whose magical eye was trained on the dead wizard.

"Constant vigilance, Voldemort," Moody said.

"_Expelliarmus_!" McGonagall said, disarming one of the shocked Death Eaters. Her hair was in disarray and she had a bruise on the side of her face, but her expression was fierce.

The other Death Eater would have struck back at the Transfiguration Professor, but fortunately, Lupin was faster. "_Petrificus Totalis_."

The stunned Death Easter fell to the floor with a thud.

"Albus," Snape said, and blacked out.

[_]

When Snape awoke, the Hospital Wing was thronging with activity. He would later be told that Minister Fudge had graced them with his presence, shaking hands and promising a slew of Orders of Merlin. A number of teachers had been injured during the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts, but they were recovering well and chatting with groups of well-wishers.

"Madam Pomfrey! Professor Snape is awake!"

The Potions Master blinked, and finally noticed that his own bed was surrounded by children. Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were staring at him, worry lining their faces.

"Oh, thank goodness," Pomfrey said. She rushed towards him, shooing those who stood in her way.

"How are you feeling, sir? See, we've brought you flowers and chocolate," Draco said.

Snape's bedside table was indeed overflowing with gifts and fragrant bouquets.

"Quit crowding the poor man, for pity's sake. He's barely conscious. Come on, give him some space," Pomfrey said.

"Don't scold them, Poppy," Snape said, and winced.

"Keep still, Severus. Those two thugs gave you quite a bruising."


	16. Aloha

"How long have I been sleeping?" He suddenly frowned, and his eyes darted around the room. "Is Albus... Was he hurt? I don't see him-"

"Don't worry, I looked him over not long ago, and aside from a few cuts, he was perfectly fine, just exhausted. I think Minister Fudge had more to do with that than You Know Who."

"I hope he's had a chance to rest."

"Oh, he will. We all will, in fact. Some of us especially need it."

Then a strange smile curved her lips.

"Why is that expression making me nervous?" Snape said.

"Oh, it was something Albus asked me. Well, suggested. Though I may have given him the idea."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Whatever cockamamie scheme you two concocted, it had better not have anything to do with me."

[_]

Epilogue

[_]

"Here you are, Severus."

The Potions Master stared at the coconut shell and cocked his eyebrow at Pomfrey. "And what is that supposed to be?"

"You'll like it. Piña Colada, the Muggles called it."

He took the drink from her hand. "I fail to see what purpose _this_ could possibly have," he said, indicating the small, pink umbrella jaunting on one side of the coconut.

"Would you taste it already?"

Snape glanced heavenwards and took a small sip. "Mmh. Not bad."

"I told you so," Pomfrey said, stretching out on the chair next to his.

For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the sound of the waves that were lapping the sandy shore. Snape exhaled slowly. He would have been loath to admit it, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed.

At first, he was incensed; forced to go on vacation, on some Muggle island lost in the middle of the ocean, no less, but the Headmaster wouldn't have it otherwise. When Snape and Pomfrey arrived (of course, she'd been selected to tag along, _"Because you're still convalescing, my boy," _Dumbledore had said), the Potions Master had marched to the beach carrying at least four gigantic books, determined not to waste his time lollygagging like some Gryffindor out of school, as he'd informed the mediwitch. And then...

Snape wasn't sure how it happened, but there he was, a week later, barefoot, in loose-fitting pants and a white shirt, soothed by the lull of the surf, his books lying forgotten on the sand.

He found himself enjoying the salty smell of the sea, the sweet fragrance of the colorful flowers that clung to the hotel where they were staying, the intoxicating aroma of the exotic food they were being served. He became used to calm afternoons, to peaceful sleep, to aimless walks; he grew to yearn for the sight of sunsets, for quiet conversations with Pomfrey, for the simple pleasure of doing absolutely nothing at all.

He felt free.

"A penny for your thoughts, Severus," Pomfrey said, gazing at him from beneath the edge of her straw hat.

"Let's have a toast." He picked up his coconut shell, and she did the same.

"To friends," he said.

She smiled.

"To friends."

[_]

_Finis_

__Thank you for reading... I hope you enjoyed my little story.


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